Don't Mind If I Do : A Fake Marriage Romantic Comedy

by Everly Ashton

  With a sigh she can’t hear over the orchestra, I push my hand through my hair. “I fucked up. I know. I’m here to make it up to her and beg her forgiveness.”

  Her bodyguard expression falls, but I don’t understand why. “Why don’t you wait out in the hall and I’ll grab her and send her your way? There’s so many people in here, I don’t want you to miss her.”

  Something’s… off.

  My head tilts. “Look, if you don’t think I should get another chance, I understand, but you really should leave that up to Maz.” I scan the crowd.

  “No, it’s not that.” Ava tugs on my arm and I look down at her hand in confusion.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “Nothing.” But she’s full of shit.

  I yank my arm out of her hold and make my way through the crowd, scanning faces. I gaze out over the dance floor, and my body seizes when I finally find her.

  In the arms of my brother—my greatest nemesis.

  And not just in his arms. Kissing him.

  Bile rushes up my throat and I swallow it back down. I spin around as Ava pushes past me and out onto the dance floor. I ignore any of the annoyed glares I get for pushing my way through people.

  I have to get out of here. My chest feels as if it’s been carved out and what’s left of my heart is being pressed under my brother’s shoe out on the dance floor.

  I push through the gilded double doors onto the street and suck in some fresh air. But only for a moment. I’m a few steps into hailing a cab when I hear my name shouted behind me. I turn to find Mazzy with tears running down her cheeks and fear in her eyes. It’s all I can do not to shake her and ask her what the hell she was thinking. How could she do this to me?

  “Maybe I should turn back around so you can pull the knife from my back,” I growl.

  Her face crumples. “He kissed me.”

  What a lame fucking excuse. “You sure looked pretty into him to me.”

  “I’m not, I swear.” She steps into me and clutches my forearms. “I’m just so angry at you. You hurt me so much the other night…”

  I narrow my eyes. “You admit you did it to hurt me then?”

  She waits a beat but nods.

  “You threw yourself at the one person in the world you know would hurt me the most. Even after what happened the other night… it’s me, Maz. How could you want to do that to me?”

  Her mouth opens and closes a few times before any words come out. “I don’t know. I was just so mad and hurt.”

  I shake my head in disgust. “You two deserve each other.”

  I turn back around to hail a cab until I hear my brother’s voice.

  “Trouble in paradise?” He chuckles. “What’s wrong? Surely we can work this out like adults, right, Maz?”

  I want to throw up hearing him use her nickname. It indicates a level of familiarity with her. And even though I know he doesn’t really know her, fury boils my blood.

  “Shut up, Keith,” Mazzy says.

  “I’m leaving,” I say, turning toward them.

  “Aw, what’s wrong, bro? No need to get upset because she finally figured out who the better brother was.” He puts his arm around Mazzy and pulls her into his side.

  She pushes away from him.

  I cock my fist back and nail him in the jaw. Keith falls back, sprawled out on the cement.

  I whirl and point at Mazzy, whose hands are over her mouth. “Don’t call me. I never want to speak to you again.”

  I stalk away, headed who knows where.

  Of course, Mazzy does call me and show up at my place too many times to count. But I don’t answer, and I don’t open door.

  I already let her do her worst to me. I’d be a fool to let it happen again.

  Thirty-Two

  Mazzy

  “Are you okay?” I ask once we’re sitting in the back of the SUV.

  “I’m fine.” His voice is clipped and he’s sitting as far from me as possible. “I made peace a long time ago with the fact that my brother and I wouldn’t have a relationship. But I didn’t bank on seeing him tonight, though I suppose I should have considered it would be a real possibility.”

  “It’s just that you were already upset about having to come in the first place and then your brother—”

  “It’s not like these things remind me of happier times, Maz.” He used my nickname and a part of me wants to do a happy dance over that, but now is not the time. “Seeing him just makes it worse.”

  “I know, I’m sorry.”

  He huffs out a sigh.

  “What?”

  “Stop apologizing for the past. What’s done is done. We need to move on.”

  I glance at Darius because he can hear us.

  “Is that really what you want?” I hold my breath, knowing Nick knows what I’m really asking. Can we have a fresh start?

  He takes my hand and squeezes it. “I think it is.”

  My heart feels as if it’s floating away on a breeze. I’ve waited so long to hear those words from Nick. To feel that I might actually have his forgiveness.

  More than anything, I want to ask him about the kiss we shared on the dance floor, but I don’t want to push my luck. Instead I squeeze his hand back and sink into my thoughts for the rest of the drive home.

  Once we arrive, we say a quick good night and retreat into our rooms to get ready for bed. For a long time, I lie there picturing our kiss and basking in the sensuality. When I hear a creak in the hallway, I look toward the door and see the shadow of feet standing there.

  I hold my breath for a moment, wondering if Nick will knock on the door and if he does, what that might mean. The seconds turn into a minute before the shadow retreats and the hall light clicks off. I hear his bedroom door close shortly after.

  I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t disappointed. But then I remember that nothing worth having comes easy.

  Nick didn’t mention the kiss when he got up this morning, so I didn’t bring it up either. We spent a good part of the day at the homeless shelter, where I met Jemma’s friend Fiona, who works there, and her other friend Marlowe, who’s writing an article on the shelter and how local doctors like Nick are lending their talents.

  Our interactions have been less strained, so even though the kiss hasn’t come up, it’s a step in the right direction.

  I walk downstairs after getting ready for tonight.

  “You sure you don’t want me to drive you over?” Nick asks for the third time.

  I’m meeting Jemma, Fiona, and Marlowe at the pub for drinks, and since I met Fiona and Marlowe earlier today, I’m not as nervous as I was. Yeah, I’m about five years older than them, but it hasn’t felt that way whenever I’ve talked to them, so I’m hoping that will continue. Of course, I doubt any of them have a failed marriage under their belt.

  “I’ll take an Uber, it’s fine.” I check my purse one more time to make sure I have everything I need.

  “Fine. I’ll pick you up then. I don’t like the idea of you in a car with some creep after you’ve been drinking.”

  I’m playing the whole independent woman act, but the truth is, I love that he’s concerned about me.

  “All right, deal. I’ll text you when I’m ready to come home.” I pull out my phone and call the Uber, which is only a couple minutes away. Perfect. Then I situate my purse and hold my hands out at my side. “How do I look?”

  “Like trouble. But only the best kind.” Nick smiles and I return it.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You should,” he says with some innuendo in his voice.

  I’m not sure what to think. He hasn’t tried to kiss me since the fundraiser, but he has been more affectionate with me today—at least with his words. But what I really want is for him to wrap his arms around me and show me how he feels with his body. But beggars can’t be choosers, as they say, and I’ll have to settle for this newfound flirtation for now.

  Headlights stream through the glas
s of the front door.

  “All right, I’m off.”

  “Have a good night.”

  I stand there like an idiot for a minute in case Nick plans on giving me a kiss or a hug, but he doesn’t move, so I turn and fumble with the door as I leave.

  The ride takes about ten minutes, then I spot the girls near the back of the pub. Music plays through the speakers, but a band is setting up in the front corner. Once I say my hello to all the girls and take a seat, a server comes by and takes our order. We’re all having wine, but Marlowe also insists on ordering a round of shots in honor of my first night joining them. Once the server leaves, all eyes are on me.

  “So you have to tell us how you nailed down Nick. I thought for sure he was a forever bachelor,” Fiona says.

  I glance at Jemma. Nick told me earlier today that Ollie was going to tell Jemma the truth about our marriage. But she looks as interested in the answer as her friends.

  “We used to be good friends growing up and through our early twenties. Then we had a falling out. When we saw each other again after so long, it seemed stupid to let the past dictate our future. It wasn’t important anymore. And so here we are.”

  “Oh my God, you ruined him.” Marlowe looks across the table at me, practically swooning.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean after you guys had your falling out, he could probably never stand to get close to another woman until you came back into his life.”

  “Oh, she’s totally right,” Fiona says. “Or no woman lived up to you, so there was no point in pursuing something serious with another woman. Don’t you think, Jem?”

  Jemma meets my gaze. In the little time I’ve been around her, she seems like a person who would do the right thing, so I don’t think she’ll out me in front of her friends, but I’m praying she doesn’t. For Nick’s sake, I can’t risk the truth getting out.

  “I saw the way he looked at you on your wedding day when you weren’t looking,” Jemma say. “I wouldn’t be surprised if what they’re saying is true.”

  I give her a heartfelt smile and nod in thanks. Thanks for keeping my secret and thanks for what I think she knows are words I’d hoped to hear. “I don’t know if you guys are right or not, but I’d like to think you are.”

  The waiter shows up with our wine and shots.

  Once we’ve thanked him and he’s left, Marlowe holds hers up in the center of the table. “I want to give a toast.” We all hold up our shot glasses. “To the new couple: never sweat the petty things and always pet the sweaty things.”

  We break out in laughter and clink our shot glasses together, then toss them back. I cough when the alcohol burns going down. I’m not accustomed to doing a shot. Let’s just say they’re not big on them at high society gatherings.

  “Oh, girl, we’re gonna have to get you conditioned,” Fiona says.

  “Don’t worry, Mazzy. After a few wine nights, you’ll be able to take the shots like a champ,” Jemma adds.

  I look at this group of women with a mixture of hope and sadness. The way things stand now, I won’t be a part of their lives once the clock has run out on Nick’s and my marriage.

  Thirty-Three

  Nick

  There’s something wrong with this picture. I’m sitting at home on a Saturday night, watching Grey’s Anatomy alone, while Mazzy is out at a bar, getting shitfaced.

  Why hasn’t she called yet? It’s after midnight. I figured she’d be home by now. She doesn’t even really know those girls. Besides, Mazzy’s not really a drinker. Or at least she didn’t used to be.

  I try to concentrate on the TV, but my mind keeps going to that kiss last night. I’ll admit that the impetus was Keith watching us and I wanted to claim Mazzy as mine. But the moment our tongues touched, he was long forgotten and I was brought back to a place where she was my every want and desire. Where the past didn’t exist.

  I meant what I told her last night about wanting to leave the past behind. I’m sick of holding on to all the anger over what happened. And if I have to spend the next five-plus months with her, I don’t want to be a bitter asshole the entire time. My job offers me a crystal ball on how easily life can be snatched away. I don’t want to spend it miserable.

  My phone dings with a text message, so I pause the episode I’m watching and pick it up.

  Mazzy: RDDDYYYY!

  Me: Does this mean you want to be picked up?

  Mazzy: I wnt u

  Jesus, how much has she had to drink?

  Me: I’m on my way. Don’t go anywhere.

  Mazzy: eye eye captn

  I grab my keys and rush out the door, unsure of what state I’ll find her in. Mazzy was never really a big drinker, but the odd time she did back in the day, she had loose lips. You’d know exactly what she was thinking—apparently the filter from her brain to her mouth was dissolved after coming in contact with alcohol.

  I park my vehicle when I don’t see her waiting outside. A live band is playing, and the place is full of drunks. It’s funny how stupid everyone looks when you’re sober. I spot the girls at a table at the back and it’s clear things have gotten… messy.

  Marlowe is swinging her bra over her head, yelling about bringing down the patriarchy, while the rest of them cheer her on.

  “Hello, ladies.”

  All their heads whip around in my direction. “Nick!” they call in unison as if they rehearsed it.

  “Everyone behaving themselves?” I raise an eyebrow.

  “Not at all,” Mazzy says. “Thanks for the fun, girls!” Mazzy tries and fails to put her crossbody purse over her head, so I step forward and help her out. “You’re so handsome.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Seriously,” she slurs. “Your eyes are so pretty.”

  Shaking my head, I back away once her purse is correct. “Am I pretty or handsome? Which is it?”

  “Pretty handsome!” Fiona yells.

  I shake my head again. “You all good for rides?”

  “Jemma called Ollie, so he’s gonna drop us off too,” Marlowe says. She and Fiona share an apartment with Marlowe’s brother.

  “All right. Get home safe. Might want to take an aspirin before bed.”

  Mazzy grips my hand and tugs me toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  I wave goodbye to the other women and follow Mazzy. Once we’re in the car and pulling out of the parking lot, she turns down the volume of the music.

  “Let’s talk,” she says in a chipper voice.

  She’s so fucking cute when she’s like this. I couldn’t properly appreciate it all the other times because I was usually three sheets to the wind too.

  “What do you want to talk about?” I ask, glancing in her direction to see that she’s studying me.

  “Do you remember that time in high school when we wanted to see the constellations and we drove out into the country but then your car got a flat tire and I forgot my phone and yours had no charge so we had to walk in the dark down that road until we found a house?”

  I laugh. “And you were afraid that the house could belong to a psychopath and you insisted on walking even farther until you found a house you were comfortable with?”

  She’s laughing now too. “And then when we stopped at that guy’s house and he drove us back to help us with the tire, he pointed at the first house and asked why we didn’t stop there? It was the pastor’s house!”

  We laugh for a minute, lost in our own thoughts.

  “I miss those days,” she says in a sad voice.

  “Me too. Things are a lot easier when you’re a teenager.”

  “No, I mean I miss being able to be like that with you.”

  I brake at a stop light and look at her. God, the expression on her face is crushing. “I miss that, too, Maz.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.”

  I don’t have to ask what kiss she’s referring to, so I decide to be honest with her. “Me too.”

  “Do you think we’ll do it again?”
She looks so hopeful, like a child asking for dessert, that I can’t help but chuckle.

  The light turns green, so I turn away from her and drive. “Do you want to?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  I laugh and make a right turn into my neighborhood.

  “What did you do tonight?” she asks.

  I shrug. “Watched TV. Went for a dip in the hot tub. That’s about it.”

  “Were you watching Grey’s Anatomy?” She laughs hysterically. For whatever reason, she finds it hilarious that I watch the show.

  “No,” I lie, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of guessing right. “I told you I only watch that so I can mock how unrealistic it is.”

  “Suuure,” she teases.

  I roll my eyes as I pull into my driveway. “C’mon, you lush. Let’s get you some water and aspirin before bed.”

  She stumbles up the path, so I hold her upper arm to make sure she doesn’t fall. Once I’m inside, I head straight to the kitchen to get the water and aspirin that will probably save her in the morning. When I return, I find her in the living room.

  “I knew you were watching Grey’s,” she says in a triumphant voice and points at the television where I’d paused the show.

  Damn it. I forgot to turn off the TV before I left.

  I chuckle and shake my head at her. “You caught me.” I put up my hands.

  “Admit you like that show.”

  I pass her the aspirin and water. “I told you why I watch it.”

  “You’re lying,” she says, water dribbling down her chin.

  “We need to get you to bed. C’mon.” I walk toward the stairs.

  “Will you join me?”

  I stop with my foot on the first stair and turn around. Her offer is fucking tempting, and if she were sober, there’s a good chance I might take her up on it. “No.”

  “Because you don’t want to?” She walks toward me, and she looks horny. Which makes me horny. Damn it.

  “You’ve had too much to drink. Let’s go.” I move to turn around.